


Volume

by PixeledPurple



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen, Medical Conditions, Mental Health Issues, Music, Outliers (Transformers), poor coping mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:40:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25164058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PixeledPurple/pseuds/PixeledPurple
Summary: Jazz plays his music loud enough to annoy everyone around him.  What they don't realize, is that he has a very good reason.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

The pounding came at the door again. He had heard it the first three times, despite the music. That didn’t mean he wanted to answer. He finished another report and sent it off. He was almost caught up with his paperwork. That’d be a first.

The door slid open without his authorization. The temptation to scowl was overwhelming. Instead, he put on a bright smile as he looked up from the datapad he was working on. "Hey Prow! Didn’t hear ya knock."

"Well I did!" The other had to shout over the music. "Jazz, will you turn that down?!"

"What?" He had heard.

A message pinged on his HUD.

_From: Prowl  
Message: Turn the music down!_

Slag.

Jazz did.

"Jazz, half the base can hear that!"

Jazz shrugged, "It helps me concentrate."

"How can you concentrate on anything with that noise blaring?"

"It ain’t noise, it’s music."

Prowl's expression made it very clear that his definition of music varied greatly from Jazz’s.

"An’ I told ya, ya need to soundproof my office."

"Can’t you just play the music at a reasonable volume? The construction of the base will prevent sound from traveling between rooms at volumes at up to 110 decibels."

"Sorry mech. Anything else I can do for ya?"

Prowl shot him a glare, "Just keep it down."

Jazz waited for him to leave. Then he locked the door, adding a security reinforcement. Then he turned the music back up. Louder than it had been before.

The pounding on the door came back almost immediately, followed by multiple pigs to his HUD, all of which he ignored.

***

Jazz had one last report to finish. He debated waiting to submit the last few. Didn’t want to start setting any expectations after all. He glanced at the mission reports from his team. He could review those next. They where good enough at omitting anything that shouldn’t be made official, but as long as Jazz was working, he might as well double check.

A knock came at the door. It wasn’t Prowl’s knock. Jazz scowled, barring his fangs, knowing the mech on the other side wouldn’t be able to see.

He ignored it, hoping the other would leave.

A minute later, he received a ping.

_From: Optimus Prime  
Message: Jazz, I need to speak to you._

He debated not answering. He could lie, say he had fallen into recharge. He never got the comm. It would take even Optimus some time to override the locks he had put on.

Jazz stared at the door. If looks could kill, anyone within a hundred meters of that door would be dead.

_From: Optimus Prime  
Message: Jazz, open the door._

NOPE!

_To: Ratchet  
Message: Need ya mech._

He ignored the response asking him to elaborate. He ignored the next two comms from Optimus.

Finally, he got the comm he had been waiting for.

_From: Ratchet  
Message: I’m here._

Jazz sent the command for the locks to release and the door slid open. He could see the mechs on the other side visibly flinch from the sudden increase in volume. He couldn’t tell who was there, but it was more than Optimus and Ratchet.

Thankfully, Ratchet was the only one entered. Jazz slammed the door shut behind him as soon as he was inside.

_From: Ratchet  
Message: How bad is it?_

"I can hear ya mech."

Ratchet sighed, "Well I can’t hear myself Jazz, much less you."

_To: Ratchet  
Message: Then how’d ya know what I said?_

"I read lips." Ratchet snapped, not impressed by his smart aft remarks. The other didn’t walk on eggshells around him. He appreciated that. "Answer my question."

_To: Ratchet  
Message: I’m ignorin’ Prime. How bad d’ya think it is?_

"Is that the kind of grammar you use in your reports too? No wonder Prowl complains." Ratchet sighed, "I’m going to give you a sedative."

"NO!" Jazz snapped, denta bared.

To his credit, Ratchet didn’t flinch, "Than what do you want Jazz?

"I just-" he remembered the comms, slumping back in his chair.

_To: Ratchet  
Message: I just need some time._

"It’s been 2 hours Jazz. Prowl isn’t exaggerating. I heard the music 2 floors down coming up here."

_To: Ratchet  
Message: How is that my problem? I told them to soundproof my office._

"Jazz-"

_To: Ratchet  
Message: Ya know what it’s like to hear **everything**? Every sound, every movement, every particle vibrating in the air? And that’s just the sounds that are really there._

There where times Ratchet wished he had paid more attention during his psych rotation. Every conversation he had ever had with Jazz was one of those times. What no one else knew, was that Jazz was a point one percenter with an outlier ability, the ability to hear everything. The problem was, he couldn’t always control it.

Over the years, he had been able to identify nearly all the sounds he heard. Many of them where things Ratchet hadn’t even been aware make noise. But the really concerning part was the things Jazz heard that he couldn’t identify. 'Echoes of voices that had never spoken,' is how he had once described it. Ratchet honestly couldn’t decide if he was really hearing things, perhaps picking up on radio waves, too deteriorated to register properly, or if he may actually be, well, 'hearing voices.'

Ratchet had tried a dozen things to help him, but the only thing that seemed to calm him was to drown out all the background noise with the loudest music he could manage.

"Are you hearing anything particularly distressing?"

" _To: Ratchet  
Message: It’s all distressin’ mech. They’re talkin’ about some disaster. It’s always worse when I can make out some of what they’re sayin.’_

In more ways than one, Ratchet thought, but kept it to himself. "What do you want me to do Jazz?"

_To: Ratchet  
Message: Make 'em go away._

Ratchet wasn’t sure if he meant the sounds he was hearing, or the Autobots outside telling him to turn down the music, "You know I can’t. Not unless you let me give you a sedative."

Jazz snarled at him, "It doesn’t stop the noise. It just, pushes it, farther away."

Ratchet rolled his optics, "Jazz I can’t hear you. Comm me."

Jazz sighed.

_To: Ratchet  
Message: Fine mech. Sedate me._

Ratchet approached the other cautiously, it wouldn’t be the first time he had lashed out during one of these episodes. But Jazz cooperated, tilting his helm and allowing Ratchet to place the stasis patch on him.

He watched the other drift offline, easing his helm onto the desk slowly. Ratchet sighed in relief, reaching over to turn off the music.

"He sacrificed his spark…"

Ratchet frowned, it wasn’t unusual for the other to mutter something nonsensical as he slipped into stasis. But he had a bad feeling about this time.

Ratchet left Jazz in his office to sleep it off. He kew he should have alerted the senior officers to Jazz’s condition a long time ago, or at least Optimus. But Jazz had been insistent on keeping it quiet. And they had been friends longer than there had been a chain of command, before anyone had ever dreamt up the word "Autobots." So as long s Jazz didn’t pose an immediate threat to himself or others, he would keep his secret. And that meant not letting anyone know that he had had to be sedated.

He made a vague excuse to the Autobots waiting in the hallway, most of whom where just happy to finally have some peace and quiet.

"Ratchet," Optimus was not one of those bots.

"Optimus, I suggest you have Jazz’s office soundproofed. His quarters too.

"Doctor’s orders," he added when Optimus gave him a look.

"He deliberately disobeyed orders and ignored my comms Ratchet. Are you going to tell me the medical reason he had for that?"

Optimus was aware Jazz was receiving long term treatment for something, just not the specifics. "I can’t Optimus, you know that. As long as it doesn’t interfere with his ability to do his job-"

"How do I know this won’t happen in the middle of a battle, Ratchet? I don’t even know what signs to look for."

Ratchet signed, Optimus wasn’t angry, he was concerned, and more for Jazz’s well being than anything else. "It won’t," it was the truth, as fully as Ratchet knew. Jazz’s episodes happened when he was bored, when he had too much time to think, when he had no use for his outlier abilities. On the battlefield, out on missions, Jazz was in survival mode. The very thing that made him nearly loose his mind back on base was what made him one of the best soldiers the Autobots had. "You’re going to have to trust my medical judgement Optimus."

Optimus looked at him for a long while. Ratchet folded his arms, it was going to take a lot more than that to intimidate him. "Very well," Optimus said at last. "But I still need to speak to him."

"It can wait till tomorrow."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This takes place a great many years after the last chapter. A lot has changed for Jazz.

Jazz had left the party early. It wasn’t something he did often, but sometimes, even he needed some peace and quiet. Well, peace, anyway.

As soon as he was in his quarters, he turned on his music — his favourite playlist, a mix of Cybertronian and Earth songs — and flopped down on his berth, offlining his optics.

Jazz had always been able to hear voices. They hadn’t always been voices, however. When he was younger, less experienced, they where just sound. As his outlier ability developed, they had become more distinct. When the war first started, the first hundred years or so had been the worst. He had legitimately thought he was loosing his mind.

But eventually, they came into focus. He started to understand, not just the words, but recognize the voices. They where his voice. All of them.

Jazz’s outlier ability allowed him to hear everything. He could hear a conversation two floors down as if it were happening right next to him. He could hear the wings of a dragonfly as they beat the air. He could hear the rumbling of the Earth’s tectonic plates as they slowly, oh so very slowly moved and shifted. He could hear the particles of dust colliding with each other in the air.

It had been overwhelming at one point, and the music had been the only thing that could make it bearable. It wasn’t the volume — ok, in a way, it was — but it wasn’t just the noise. Music gave him something to focus on. The pitch, vibration, the varying frequencies, the different instruments and vocals working together in harmony, or sometimes a beautiful sort of disharmony.

Now it was easier. He could tune out everything but what he wanted to focus on, whether it was the conversation he was having, the tumblers of the lock he was breaking into, the Decepticon he was spying on, or just the quiet rustle of leaves in the breeze of a calm, sunny day.

But he still loved the music. And on days like today, when all his friends where celebrating a small victory over the Decepticons, and all he could focus on was the next battle, and the intel he had overhead Megatron share with Starscream, the music made it easier to tune all the rest of it out.

He had never shared the full extent of his abilities with the other Autobots. He had to work hard enough to keep their trust doing everything he did as special ops. He really didn’t need them to know that he could hear their deepest secrets if he just stopped trying not to.

All of three bots in the universe knew he had outlier abilities, Ratchet, Optimus, and Prowl. And Prowl had found out by accident.

" _It's Megatron! Retreat! Move! Fall back!_ "

Jazz winced. He didn’t want to hear the voices of distant wars.

" _He sacrificed his spark to save us._ "

Not better, he sighed. He turned the dial, as he liked to call it, looking for one of the 'hims' that was not stuck in a war zone.

It had taken him millennia to realize it, but the voices he heard where all his. Jazzes from other universes, parallel dimensions that he was tuned into. He had identified 34 unique 'Jazzes' so far. There may very well have been others, some still seemed too far away to hear.

" _You didn’t see them because I didn’t **want** you to see them._"

He could shut it off. If he turned the music up a few more notches, the voices would fade out on their own. Or he could make himself focus on the bass, tune everything else out until his sensors calmed down.

" _Do what you want. I hardly know the punk._ "

But sometimes, sometimes he just needed hope. He wondered absently if any of the others had the same ability. If any of them could hear him the way he could hear them. He had tried talking to them a few times. Still did when things got bad. But none had ever talked back.

Of course, time was a funny thing across universes. He had hear the same conversation a hundred times from some of the Jazzes out there. He knew those words. He could quote them by spark. They where never the good ones.

"Hey ma mechs. If any of ya can hear me, I’m here with ya."

Maybe one day, he would hear an answer. Maybe there was a Jazz out there somewhere that could hear his words and find comfort in them.

" _"Beautiful, ain’t it?_ "

Jazz smiled. He knew this 'him.’ It was his favourite universe. As far a he could tell, it was one where there had never been a war, never been a functionalist council, never been an energon crisis. Sure they had their own problems, but he would trade places with that Jazz in a spark pulse.

'He' chuckled, " _All right, if ya insist. What’d ya wanna hear tonight?_ "

Sometimes Jazz wished he could hear the other side of the conversations. He wished he could know the mechs the other he was talking to. This Jazz had a sparkmate. He wasn’t the only one, but Jazz hadn’t been able to figure out who it was yet. It could very well be someone who had never existed in his world. It could be Prowl, that was the case in more than one universe.

That had been a surprise. Prowl of all mechs was probably the last person he would ever consider. But if one of 'him' was happy with Prowl, maybe he should. Jazz hadn’t regretted that experiment, but the Jazz that he was, and the Prowl of his universe were certainly not meant to be anything more than teammates. Maybe friends. But if the war ended tomorrow, he wasn’t sure either of them would stay in touch.

He listened to his other self sing. He was playing an instrument, though he couldn’t hear the music. Probably the electro-bass, it was his favourite in more than one universe. Though this Jazz had had nothing but time to focus on his music. He had never even heard of some of the instruments the other talked about. He had invented at least one. Jazz would be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous. Still, he was happy for the mech.

A knock came at the door.

Jazz debated a moment before sending the command for it to open, propping himself into a half seated position on the berth.

Optimus flinched at the volume as the door slid open. "Sorry boss, y’want me to turn it down?" he practically yelled to be sure he was heard over the music.

Optimus shook his head, allowing the door to slide closed behind him, "I can turn down my audio receptors."

Jazz smiled. He was glad Optimus knew, that he understood.

_To: Optimus  
Message: What can I do for ya?_

"I just wanted to check on you. I noticed you left the party early."

Jazz shrugged.

_To: Optimus  
Message: Wasn’t much in a celebratin’ mood._

Optimus nodded, "I read your report."

_To: Optimus  
Message: S’ppose you’re gonna want me to get more intel._

"We’re going to need to know where they’re planning to launch the weapon."

_To: Optimus  
Message: Just lemme know when. I’ll be ready._

"It can wait until morning. I believe it’s important for moral to let the others celebrate our victory tonight." Optimus looked at him for a moment, "Is it bad today?"

Jazz shook his head. He loved Optimus, but the mech sometimes treated him like he was going to break. Though, he supposed there was a time he thought he was going to himself.

_To: Optimus  
Message: They ain’t all bad. In some universes, there’s peace._

_Message: I wish you could hear it. A Cybertron without war. It gives ya hope._

"One day, I hope I will be able to see it for myself, in our universe."

_To: Optimus  
Message: Me too mech. Me too. _

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, imagining how that might look. Jazz listening to to a song Optimus couldn’t hear.

" _Thanks sweetspark,_ " the other him said as he finished his song.

_To: Optimus  
Message: Are ya goin’ back to the party?_

"No, I should work on the plans for tomorrow."

_To: Optimus  
Message: I wasn’t suggesting y’should leave Optimus._

Optimus gave him a small smile, "I know, old friend. But none the less, I should be going."

Jazz gave him a nod.

_To: Optimus  
Message: Night boss mech."_

_"Good night Jazz," Optimus said, stepping out into the hallway, leaving Jazz alone with his other self._

_He listened in on more of 'his' side if the conversation. The other was definitely talking to his sparkmate. Jazz wanted that someday. He wasn’t sure if someday was now, but someday, after the war, when he wouldn’t have to keep so many secrets._

_" _We should go! I know it’s a long drive, but you’ll see, it’s the best bands on Cybertron._ "_

_A concert. Jazz missed concerts. It just wasn’t the same on Earth._

_" _Humor me. 'Sides, I know you wanna get in and see the archives there._ "_

_It wasn’t the first reference the other had made to archives. He knew enough about his sparkmate to know that the mech would probably get along well with Optimus._

_" _Right, see ya tomorrow love_ " A pause. " _Night 'Rion._ "_

_Jazz bolted up in his berth at that, "Orion?!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I love kudos and comments. <3

**Author's Note:**

> What Jazz is hearing is very real. I would love to know what you think the "echoes" are. I know exactly what he’s hearing, but I wonder if anyone can guess it. I plan to eventually write a sequel to this. Cybertronian’s do typically learn to control their outlier abilities after all…


End file.
